Regrets
by McGonagall'swoman
Summary: A magazine article submitted anonymously by Hermione Granger as part of a series titled "Regrets". AU-ignores large chunks of the last few books. May continue it.


Apologies for not having updated _To calm the raging storm_. I'm struggling with one particular bit. Hopefully I'll get over it (dear santa, for christmas i'd like a cage for my plotbunnies).

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Regrets

As the song says, I've had a few, perhaps I've even had too few to mention. I'm not sure, however, that it is the number of regrets that really matters; rather, I suspect it is the magnitude of them. As for my regrets, the majority have indeed been minor: Harsh words when they were undeserved, even when they were; not having my teeth fixed sooner; getting drunk and telling a friend what I really thought. Not much to speak of. There is however, one that still haunts me.

It's difficult to know where to begin. To quote Lewis Carroll "begin at the beginning, then go on till you come to the end: then stop". Sound advice indeed, but on this occasion, I suspect some perspective is warranted, and perhaps, an explanation as to why I'm writing this at all. Why chronicle your regrets? It is not purely for your entertainment, nor is it a cautionary tale (although if that is how it is received I won't be altogether unhappy). You will soon see, that this article smacks of catharsis. It reeks of the frustration of one who knows she has missed an opportunity and can't quite accept it, can't quite shake the _what if?_

I am 28 years old, married to a man of similar age, who works for the ministry of magic. I have known him for more than half my life, and been his partner for 10 years. I work as a healer, the job I dreamed of as a child, and was so happy to achieve. In my spare time, I read, novels, biographies, scientific journals regarding my field of expertise, and some from different fields entirely. I read as though it is a necessity. Perhaps in its escapism, it is.

I was something of a late bloomer by most people's standards. So focused was I on my academic work, and my extracurricular activities that romance took a back seat. People always assumed I was carrying a torch for R, and I was happy to let them believe it. It was simpler than the alternative-a lengthy explanation that I just hadn't ever met a boy I was interested in. I'd had a few dates, even kissed a few of them, but it never made me feel anything, except perhaps mild revulsion, and exasperation at being distracted from my work. I began to think I might simply not have it in me to be sexually attracted to someone. I thought that perhaps I just didn't have a libido and would be one of those women who live alone, and be quite content for it. In later years of course I would learn that these women are rare, and the majority just have a sex life they want to keep to themselves. Nonetheless, it was puzzle that dominated most of my teenage years.

When finally I had the heart-stopping, gut-wrenching experience of attraction I was totally unprepared for it. We had just returned after our summer holidays and I was a little early for the first class of the term. I walked into the empty classroom, claimed my usual seat at the front of the class, and began to make a start on the reading. I felt her presence before I heard or saw her. When I did look up, I felt as though my very heart had been wrenched from me. Before me stood Prof. M, a teacher I'd seen regularly since I was 11, and a woman I was seeing for the first time. Unconsciously, I took in her appearance. From the dark hair, swept from her face making all the more prominent her piercing green eyes, to the lace-up ankle boots she wore on her feet. When she spoke to me it took me a few moments to recover, and although Prof M noticed my distance, I was sure she hadn't seen it for what it was, to be honest, I'm not sure I recognised it in that moment. It became clear to me, however, as the weeks and months progressed. She began to haunt my days and my nights. I would look forward to her classes above all others, but would have to repeat the lessons in my own time, as I found myself spending the class concentrating on my awareness of where she was in the room, and revelling in the sensation in the pit of my stomach, and in my groin that seemed to intensify with her proximity.

I learnt her timetable so I could pass her in the corridor, and deliberately walked the long way to all my classes, ensuring I passed the staff room in the hope of catching a glimpse of her.

Once I arranged a meeting with her on the pretext of having a question regarding the week's work. We spent about 15 minutes alone together that day, and she answered my questions patiently. Looking back, i picture her intense gaze, and I wonder if perhaps there was something more in it.

Despite all of this, despite learning that being in her presence could cause my heart to race, my stomach to churn and my clit to throb, I never really realised I was attracted to her. I thought "all young women have crushes on their teachers". "This is just a phase, I'm not gay". "She would think me absurd if I spoke to her about this". So I continued to admire her from afar.

When in my 7th year, R kissed me, I let him. I tried to feel something more than I had during previous encounters, and perhaps I did. We quickly became a couple, and a few years ago we married. To many it seems like the perfect partnership. We never argue, something most people take as reflection of our bond. Personally I think it reflects an utter lack of passion, whether it be in disagreement or in bed. However, it is a bed I have made and one I have to lie in.

Occasionally I consider contacting Prof M. I have even gone so far as to find out what conferences she is attending, and contemplated making up an excuse to go. The problem is, I don't know if I have built up in my mind the attraction I felt all those years ago. Have I convinced myself it was reciprocated? Could I bear it if she was with someone? For now, I think I'm happier with the belief that we could have had something amazing.

So what is my biggest regret? I let cowardice and confusion stop me experiencing what could have been the most intense love affair of my life. In 10 more years time, will I continue to regret not taking the chance all those years ago, or will I regret more continuing to let cowardice rule me. Perhaps I will find the courage some day, to find out what would have been.


End file.
